


By Hook or By Crook

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [315]
Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: AU with Luke and Leia Roleswap, Dirty Talk, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Post-Star Wars: A New Hope, Seduction, Sort Of, prince!luke, these two idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:26:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21692998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: The last thing Han Solo expected to see when he waved open the door to his quarters was a half-naked prince in his bed.
Relationships: Luke Skywalker/Han Solo
Series: Mental Mimosa [315]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1012767
Comments: 7
Kudos: 250





	By Hook or By Crook

The last thing Han Solo expected to see when he waved open the door to his quarters was a half-naked prince in his bed.

Ok, maybe not the _last_ thing, reader--numbers 1-7 are too weird to detail here--but suffice it to say: Han was surprised, maybe even caught a little off guard. Which, to be honest, only made the whole business hotter.

“Luke,” he said pointedly as he stepped inside (and locked the doors). “What the hell are you doing, kid?”

The prince blushed and sat up a little, the silken sheet sliding to his hips. “Um, I thought it was obvious.”

“Really? ‘Cause it ain’t obvious to me.”

“I’m here waiting for you.”

Han dug his thumbs into his belt and leaned back against the doorframe. “And why, exactly, did waiting for me necessitate losing your shirt? Or getting into my bed, for that matter? Was handing out medals to the heroes of the Rebellion--including yours truly--that exhausting?”

“Han--”

“I mean, if anybody should be tired in this scenario, Your Highness, it’s me. I’m the one that had to walk around with all this weight around my neck. Nobody would let me take it off.”

The prince was glaring at him now and oh, Maker, he was so easy to rile up, something that was easily Han's new favorite pastime; it wasn’t his fault the kid was so pretty when he was mad. “I have a perfectly good bed of my own," the prince announced. "It's bigger than this one, actually.”

“Bigger, huh?”

“And softer.” The prince’s voice rose. The sheet fell to crown his (bare) thighs--huh. So not half-naked after all. “And my rooms are nicer, too.”

“They are, huh?” He made a show of looking, of sliding his eyes over everything the prince was putting on display. “That why you decided to clutter up mine?”

“What are you doing? Stop staring at me.”

“Why?” He traced the muscles in the kid’s chest, the rosy peaks of his nipples, and trailed back down to the growing swell beneath the bedclothes. “Sure seems like you like it.”

“I do not.”

He kept his gaze on the prince’s body and shrugged out of his vest, noted the answering arch of the kid’s hips. “Yeah, you do. You like it when I look at you. You like it when I talk to you. You like it when I’m near you, period. And you’ve been dying to get me alone since the moment we met.”

The prince made a hot, soft sound. “I have not.”

“Yes, you have.” He yanked off his shirt and lifted his eyes and oh, the creature who was staring back was biting his lip, the flame of a lifetime on his face. “Well, you’ve got your wish now, prince, by hook or by crook, don’t you? And all it took was a little breaking and entering so you could take your clothes off like some courtesan and crawl into my bed."

A squirm. “Han, I--”

Han planted a knee at the end of the bed and leaned into it, and fuck, the look on the kid’s face as the mattress dipped. “Got me right where you want me now, don’t you, Your Highness?”

The prince met his eyes, witchfire. “Yes.”

Han grinned. “So what are you going to do with me, huh?”

It involved the absence of clothes. It involved the stripping back of one pale blue silk sheet. It involved the prince being all the way naked and all the way gorgeous and him spurting up into Han’s grip with an abandon that made Han fucking crazy.

“Sorry,” the kid whined, his hips still churning, his dick still spurting. “Sorry, sorry, it feels so good, I couldn't, _oh_ \--”

“Shhhh, honey,” Han said, pressing his groan to the prince’s soft, pleading mouth. “Don’t be sorry. I’m gonna make you come again. Yeah, I am. Lick you until you’re hard again and take you straight down my throat and swallow everything that you give me. And then, once I’ve opened you up, you’re gonna come on my cock.”

The prince threw his arms around Han’s neck and kissed him hard and sideways and sloppy and right then, reader, right the fuck then, Han Solo knew he was screwed in the best possible way because wherever this kid went, to the heart of the Empire and back, he would follow, because he was tied down now to this pale, fierce boy without question, no matter how fast his _Falcon_ could go.

“Do it,” the prince whispered between kisses. “What you said. That. I want everything, Han. I want you.”


End file.
